Why is it that I get inspired to write late in the evening? I got home from a wonderful dinner where we celebrated the birthday of our housemate. Like normal I checked out Face Book and checked on my blog. On face book there was an essay attributed to Morgan Freeman, where he decries the media attention yesterdays monster is getting, and suggests we all turn off the news.
I really agree with the statement. We only remember the monsters, not the knights in shinning armor. (To all my friends in the SCA, the D&D players and the history buffs. yes I know the feudal system was oppressive and the "knight-errant" never existed. Pick your favorite rude gesture and assume I'm showing it you) But then it struck me. On the way to dinner tonight, I did remember a knight. A knight in armor of John Deer green.
Because of the "media circus" we seem to live in, we assume that it takes something spectacular to be remembered after we're gone. That's not right, and fortunately it's not true. All it takes is one media outlet of some kind to make us remember a hero. Granted I'm not much of a media outlet, but this blog is what I've got and I'll be damned if I'll let us remember only monsters.
I've lost a lot of friends over the years, and I don't remember them very often, at least not most of them. Friends, family and lovers flit in and out of our lives on a fairly regular basis and a lot of time it takes something big to make us remember them. But not always. When we remember someone it is usually just a few things about them that we remember. Something they said or did. Something specific. That is not always the case.
I lost a dear friend last spring. He was young, healthy, and married less than three years. He went to sleep one afternoon and never woke up. There are days I don't remember Brett, but those days few and far between. His loss is still new, so that is one reason I remember him so much. However I doubt that I'll ever forget him. I won't remember him for anything he said, or anything he did in particular. I'll remember him for who and what he was. Brett was one of the few truly "good" beings I have ever encountered, and the only one I knew well enough to call friend.
There was nothing about him that you could put your finger on and say "That, is why he is a good man" There was nothing remarkable about him in the conventional sense. He didn't devote his life to feeding the poor. He didn't rush into burning buildings to save old ladies, children, and kittens. He didn't give away millions of dollars to people on the street. BUT! I could see him doing any of those things. Generous of spirit doesn't even begin to describe Brett. For me, he showed me there was good in the world along side evil. If anyone around Brett needed anything, and he could supply it, he did. Notice, I didn't say "he would" I said HE DID! He gave of himself, his caring spirit, his joy in simple things, and his passion. His passion for life, beauty and most of all his wife.
In a lot of ways he embodied what it is to be, not just male, but a man. He knew anger, pain and sadness. we all do. But those things didn't control or influence him. Brett's motivations were love, joy, and a delight at every new day. He was almost young enough to be my son. But honestly I want to grow up to be just like him. He was a knight, in somewhat dusty armor of John Deer Green.
So for the next few days, let's take the advise of Mr. Freeman and turn off the news. Instead look around you and find your own knights. They may not be on this mortal plane anymore, but they're still championing all that is good, and just and right. If only in our hearts and souls. Let's put the monsters in the dungeons and forget them, and always, always remember the knights.
Take care of each other.
Larry
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